


Light Fades

by Whisper



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper/pseuds/Whisper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair will not be King, but he'll always be her king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Fades

Fauna is straddling him, and she’s pinned Alistair’s hands above his shoulders, her thick nails threatening to gouge the tender skin of his wrists. He’s looking up at her with a vicious squint, but his lips are pouting in a near-comical way.  
“Tell me I’d make a good King,” he demands, and her eyes sparkle behind her copper lashes.  
“You’d make a terrible King, Alistair. Honestly, are you so obtuse?”  
One of her legs finds it way between his thigh, and she prods his inner knee with her bare toes, asking for purchase. He obliges, but strains against her grasp on his wrists.  
“Fauna,” he begs, his lower lip quivering.  
“You’re no diplomat, ‘Stair. Anora is. Arl Eamon’s already made clear his choice,”  
Alistair sighs, and forces one of his hands loose to rub at his eye. “I don’t bloody want to be King, Fauna. You know that. I just…,” Fauna tilts her head to the side, and Alistair reaches his free hand up to cup her ear and cheek. “I want to know that I could be. I want to hear that from you,”  
Fauna’s not used to hearing this vulnerability in the Warden’s voice; it so staunchly contradicts his warmth and humor. Some part of her, the part of her that’s deeply attracted to his unwavering positivity, retracts from him. But the part of her that’s truly, unquestionably, in love with him crumples at the sight of the wrinkles on his brow and the tightness at the intersection of his slim lips. Gently, she traces the bridge of his nose –that noble, bumpy nose- and drops her gaze to his throat.  
“You’d make a splendid King, love,”  
In her periphery, she sees a brow arch. “Yes?”  
Fauna smirks, and dips down to press her nose to his Adam’s apple. “You’d be the best King Ferelden had ever known,”  
She releases his other hand, and he immediately places it between her shoulder blades, coaxing her down against him. She obliges, and her toes begin to worry against his calves. “In peace, Alistair, you’d light up the very earth with your kindness and your love for this land. Women would love you as they love their brothers, and men would drink to your strength in arms and courage on the battlefield. The bards would sing to your name until dawn, and even my people would light fires to you and your kin.”  
Alistair beams at this, and clutches her tightly against him. His gaze drifts to the ceiling. “You don’t understand, Fauna. For a… a bastard… to hear that, it means everything, truly,”  
Fauna smiles, and presses the side of her face to his warm, bare chest. “You know this, ‘Stair. You know this to be true,”  
Fingers silently trace through her hair, tenderly stroking down her scalp and her neck to her naked back. Fauna listens as Alistair’s heart thuds, tightening her hold around him. “But if you were King,” she murmurs, her eyes dancing back up to him, “I would lose you,”  
She feels him shift beneath her, and his eyes grow dark once more. “No,” he breathes.  
“I would fall on Loghain’s blade, willingly, before I was ever parted from you, Fauna,”  
Outside a jay caws, and the light shifts as a cloud passes over the low-setting sun. Fauna believes him, oh how she believes him. She feels it, that undying loyalty she has to him, crawl across her skin like a shiver. She could not be parted from him, not ever. She would walk the dark, abandoned Dwarven halls or cross the narrow, storming sea for eternities just to find him. Even a lifetime, two lifetimes, in the Fade would be worth holding him for just a moment.  
He will always be her King.


End file.
